Front Page Worthy
by grisly blanco
Summary: He's an average adult, who lives in an average apartment in which the landlord forgets to pay the bills, and slaves away for a less-than-average job that may just give his average life some meaning. — Naruto-centric. Naruto, Ino


**Title**: Front Page Worthy  
**Summary**: He's an average adult, who lives in an average apartment in which the landlord forgets to pay the bills, and slaves away for a less-than-average job that may just give his average life some meaning.  
**Pairing**: Naruto x Ino  
**Type**: On-going  
**Rating**: T/M-ish (for language, mostly)  
**Genre**: AU, romance, (crude) humor, slice-of-life/coming-of-age type of thing  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto.  
**a-note1**: This is my take on Naruto in an AU-setting, in which he isn't the perfect, likable, renowned guy and everybody are normal nobodies, just like everyone else. Enjoy.

* * *

_Uzumaki Naruto, I believe a shower is in order_, he thought as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hand tugged at the tip of his blond hairs, and through the strands he felt the greasy moisture on his fingertips. He hadn't showered in two days—it was due to the sheer unwillingness he had in not removing himself from his worn, uncomfortable bed—and it was starting to show. The very few, odd cat-like whiskers on each of his cheeks were beginning to grow again. (Even at twenty-one, he still yearned for even the faintest hair on his chin to make him appear manlier. Stupid, goddamn baby face.) His underarms probably held a bad odor that could even have a girl deftly avoiding his 'yawn-and-lift-arm-while-cleverly-placing-around-shoulder' trick and ditching him for the (far more) handsome son of a bitch two rows over in a theater.

Damn. He still couldn't get over that.

With a resigned slump of his shoulders, he placed his towel on the toilet seat and turned on the faucet. His nude body was immediately assaulted by cold water that stung his skin and made his balls shiver in protest.

_Sorry boys. Nagayama-san didn't pay the bill again, the unreliable bastard._

When he first moved in a year ago, there was way more wrong than just the cold showers and bad heating. The one-room apartment itself was an unpleasant sight: furniture appeared to be falling apart, with portions missing that could have been removed by force and incredible use of teeth; floorboards that creak with every step; walls with deteriorating wallpaper (which was/still is a horrid floral); a showerhead that releases a mysterious thick, brown liquid before its ice-fucking-water punishes him, relieving him of his morning wood; and a small, lone twin-size bed that bore the words "Kazehaya & Meiko: cool cats forever in love, '89" carved onto the headboard.

Naruto smirked softly at the thought. He sometimes wondered what may have happened to the couple. Are they still alive, somewhere, still in love? Or was it written when they were already old and graying, and welcoming death as they held each other in their arms in bed? The idea was beautifully morbid at best, but it was one that stuck to him, even though it's likely to be unrealistic. Maybe they were young adults, who took things too fast in moving into a one-bedroom that offers little but settled for it anyway because they were childish and refused to be apart at their parents' growing objections. But they found love, and if they were able to find love in a shithole like his, it sparks hope within him that maybe he'll find a beautiful something in a world so ugly.

He had considered moving out of his way-too-shabby apartment. However, he wasn't exactly a man with money, nor was he good with any. It was cheaper than most apartments in the surrounding area and closer, transportation-convenient to the community college he attended. Well, once attended. He dropped out after the first semester, and no longer obligated to remain in an apartment with horrible living conditions, he could have chose to find somewhere better. After long deliberation, he reasoned that he won't find "better" unless he betters himself, somehow.

It had been a year and he'd yet to figure out just how he'd get there, with his minimum-wage job (that barely paid rent and food, which led him to rely on dollar-cup noodles) of being a paperboy—he had just lost his job as a busboy at a restaurant—and prolonging the day he returned to school, to ask himself, yet again, "Why am I here?" He's not exactly any _good _at something and just as everyone who wasn't, they pursued a career in being lousy, scamming businessmen or nurses treating patients they don't even care about.

Are those really the only options? Accepting a job that did little to define him? Then again, in today's world, one couldn't be picky with the few "opportunities" given. Naruto lived in a world so cruel and unfair to those most deserving of all things good. If one didn't have money, then he, as a person, was worth nothing. The world was built upon money; it relied on paper and processed metal. Money paid for an education, which determined a career that can be beneficial in terms of financial stability _and_ happiness, or a career that just...paid the bills, and will do so, until death.

_Like working in a cubicle_. He pulled a disgusted face, and then shivered as he realized he'd been standing underneath the showerhead for far too long. To avoid catching hypothermia and dying in a less beautiful and just plain embarrassing way in his tub—he should make a mental note to carve his name on every furniture piece, just in case—he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the tub onto the yellowing tile floor.

"F-Fucking cold! Fuck you, Nagayama!" Because cursing his landlord for have adding tiled over carpet flooring was a much bigger issue than forgetting to pay the water bill, and he had every right, damn it.

Naruto swiped his hand over the foggy mirror and stared at his reflection once more. Much cleaner now, not that it mattered. His job didn't require meeting customers face-to-face. He only delivered their newspaper, carefully flinging said wrapped paper so that it may land on their porch. Apparently, there were complaints when it was dropped off on their lawn instead ('cause it's _such_ a long fucking walk), and boy, did he get an earful from his boss.

Oh yeah, his boss? He was severely overweight and sweats so much (even during winter) that his toupee would slide off his head. The sweat would seep through his dress shirt and blazer, leaving noticeable stains when he didn't wear anything dark. He's shouting and angry most of the time, due to his obvious non-existing sex life.

"Can't blame him," Naruto snorted, throwing on a white t-shirt. "I don't even have one."

As he stepped into some old fading jeans, he thought about his long-time crush, Haruno Sakura. He sighed dreamily. Sakura, with her perfect smile, smooth skin, emerald eyes, and short, glossy, pink hair. Sakura, who he hadn't seen in over a year, but the last he heard of her, she was entering nursing school. Beautiful and smart, she can be the perfect girlfriend.

However, every perfect girl fell for the equally perfect guy. Naruto was always (resentfully) aware of her feelings toward Uchiha Sasuke, a bastard of a friend who he hadn't seen in so long, also. The Uchiha is on the other side of the city, somewhere, probably doing better than him. Sasuke would always do better—Naruto was painfully aware of this, too.

"Shit, it's chilly!" His thoughts were momentarily broken once he poked his head out the window. Donning his favorite orange sweater, he slipped his feet into his sneakers and left his apartment.

Sasuke and Sakura wouldn't leave his mind as he rode down the street on his bike to pick up papers for his daily route. What would they think, if they were to know how he's living at the moment? Earning low income from a lowly job that still exists in this day and age? If he didn't find a second job, then he wouldn't definitely be able to pay the rent this month. To top it off, he doesn't even have a car, or pet.

_I can't face them. Not now._

Not until he has reached his happiness.

* * *

The route he had been assigned since day one on the job ran a few miles, which consisted of twists and turns down neighborhoods to busy intersections. He delivered to quite a bit of people—a minimum of thirty-five, he'd counted; hence the low pay for his awesome service to people who are too lazy to pick up their newspaper in the city—who he'd expected to be old, as he couldn't think of anyone younger than forty to even bother with newspaper, what with their fancy smartphones, laptops with internet-access, and television with cable. Y'know, old-fashioned people who don't believe in technology.

Out of the thirty-five people he delivered to, he'd only seen three faces. One was of a middle-aged man, who would be sitting, asleep, on a rocking chair on his front porch every time Naruto passed by. A beer bottle would always rest on his knee, with his palm wrapped around it. He was a big, muscled man, and Naruto was sure that if the man stood beside him, he would be a good foot taller.

The second was an elderly woman a few blocks over. She would be at her front door, waiting for his delivery, and returned inside after fumbling for the newspaper on the porch floor a few times, before she picked it up. It was kind of creepy. He was never sure if she was looking directly at him, or past him.

Naruto had to ride into the city to deliver to one building during his route, and that building was a fancy, high-end hotel. He had no fucking idea why he had to deliver there, and what rich fucker would want to read a newspaper. Didn't the hotel have cable, wi-fi? Is that what rich people did nowadays—sit on their leather couch, sip expensive tea and skim through the newspaper with their pinky up? Though he had never seen the person, he was sure the bellhop waiting for him at the front entrance was the one who brought it to the person in question.

Frustrated with the upper-class, Naruto hurled the newspaper at the bellhop, hearing a faint _oof! _before speeding off.

He was now down to one newspaper, and when he approached his last destination, he came to a halt before digging into his duffel bag, retrieving the paper, and tossing it onto the front porch of the small, yellow house.

As he made move to leave, his foot backpedaled and the chain on his bike fell off.

"Fuck! Not again!" he groaned, swinging his leg around the bike. He thrust the kickstand out with the front of his sneaker, and leaning the bike's weight onto it, he leaned down to inspect the chain. "Looks like I need a tune up," he sighed, scratching at his armpits. A cool sweat was forming underneath his arms and back, and it was beginning to annoy him. "Hmm...maybe if I can just..."

Faint footsteps brought his attention behind him to the yellow house. He looked up, and dropped the chain.

It was a woman about his age, with platinum-blonde hair held up in a high pony-tail and bright blue eyes, dressed in dark blue jeans and a red, silky long-sleeve that hung loosely around her neck, sliding off one shoulder to reveal pale, white skin that didn't match her face. Maybe it was all that blush.

She stepped down the front steps and walked toward him. She was barefoot, in this chilly weather. In her hand was the paper. Her face bore the expression of someone cool and composed, and the mature impression she presented, coupled with her beauty, made him all the more attracted to her.

He was sure he sweat more than his boss did on a hot, summer day. Naruto cleared his throat, and finally opened his mouth. "H-Hi. I'm—"

"What the hell are you doing on my front lawn, you creep."

Unknown to him, the owner of the bitchiest, high-pitched voice he'd ever heard in existence was the woman who was going to change his life.

* * *

**a-note2**: And that's a wrap. Stay tuned, folks.


End file.
